He stood, his broad shoulders squared against the mantel, and looked at me gravely. "I hope," he said and stopped. Then, very evenly, he went on, "I hope you will try to be happy here, Mavis." Happy! A sudden revulsion of feeling came over me. What use had I for happiness? I had been almost stupefied, like an animal in the sun, dreaming vaguely before the fire. But now.... "I will try to be--content," I told him. His eyes hardened, grew keen and cold again. "Thank you," he said, not quite sincerely. We were silent a moment, until Silas came in to get the orders for the following day. I hardly heard the voices, talking so near me. It mattered so little what they, or anyone, said. I thought of Green Hill, of Peter asleep near me.... I thought of father, in his big woods, his old strength coming back to him ... and I thought of the letter that had reached me on my wedding day ... my first love letter. I had not answered it. For me, no "lyric hour" could exist. No, nor not even the dream of one. Uncle John, I thought, would have told Richard Warren by now that I was married. Mrs. William Denton.... My thoughts blurred into a half-dream. I was on a ship. Somewhere Mercedes Howell was standing. I heard her calling from far off, "Billy, Billy!" I awoke suddenly. Silas had gone and my husband was standing near me, "You called me, Mavis," he was saying. I looked at him, at the great, strange room, confused and half asleep. "I was dreaming," I said, and then, "a nightmare." "Oh, I see!" he laughed a little. "You look like a child," he said slowly, "with the firelight on your yellow hair and that flush in your cheeks." I rose, tumbling Wiggles unceremoniously to the floor. "Good-night," I said. "Good-night," he answered, his hands deep in his pockets, and then, as I turned, "Sleep well, my little Make-Believe-Wife!" CHAPTER X I had been asleep for several hours, I fancy, that first night in Cuba, when I awoke to see the moonlight, like a living presence in my room. Across the floor it lay in long, level bars of light. Not the iron barriers at my window could keep it out. Silver it was, and never still, but quivering as if a heart shook it. The scent of flowers came to me, and far off in what was probably the native quarter, I heard a throbbing instrument touched very softly, and the sound of singing. It was all so strange, I could scarcely believe myself awake. And presently, in nightgown and bare feet, I went across the cool tiles to the windows and looked out. The earth was silver under my eyes and the tall palms delicately feathered with light. The singing died away to half a sob. The smell of growing things was heavy and sweet on the air. It was all sheer beauty.